


Seadevil

by fightlikeagirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Lucifer as a fisherman as a sea god, M/M, gratuitous discussion of how pretty Sam is in jewelry and dresses, vaguely pagan marriage ceremonies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-04
Updated: 2013-11-04
Packaged: 2017-12-31 12:39:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1031795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fightlikeagirl/pseuds/fightlikeagirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All fishermen eventually belong to the sea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seadevil

It's early autumn, the weather just starting to turn cool and blustery, and this morning is no different. The sky is gray and drizzly, and the clouds are thick and hang low over the mountains. Mist makes Sam's bangs stick to his forehead, and he pushes them out of the way, behind his ears.

Lucifer's already at the wharf by the time he gets there, roping the _Seadevil_ up to the dock, every movement full of easy grace. Sam doesn't know his real name, has never known him as anything but _Lucifer_.

"You're late," Sam informs him, trying to smother the grin when Lucifer turns around.

"Been waiting up for me, Sammy?" Lucifer doesn't wait for an answer, rummaging in one of the enormous pockets of his jacket before pulling out a delicate seashell necklace, intricately beaded with shells from half a dozen different creatures. "I brought you a present to make up for it."

"I don't wear jewelry, Lucifer," Sam says. Still, he doesn't protest when Lucifer pushes the hair off his neck and fastens it for him. His thumb brushes the hollow of Sam's throat consideringly, and Sam shivers when he steps back.

"Have to say, Sam," Lucifer says, stepping back to his boat and lifting a crate of salted and packed fish. "I didn't expect to see you here again. Thought you and your brother and father were packing up and moving on to the next town."

Sam shrugs, taking the box from him. "Came back." He stacks it on Lucifer's handcart, neat and precise.

Lucifer frowns. "They know you're here?"

Sam makes a noncommittal noise. "I'm sure they have an idea."

"I suppose that's good enough," Lucifer says, and hands Sam the next crate.

"How's your haul this time?" Sam asks as they stack.

"It's been better," Lucifer says. "Had to smoke a lot of them, but I should have enough fresh fish to fetch a good price. Got a fair few number of crabs on ice in there, too, and those'll pay for the repainting the _Seadevil_ needs. You of a mind to do some arts and crafts?"

Sam nods quick and ducks his head, securing the last crate of fish to the cart. It'll take them some time to get it all into town, but it's still early in the day. Plenty of time.

He helps Lucifer set up his stall in the usual place, tacking up the faded and striped canvas Lucifer's had as long as Sam's known him. "Tell me everywhere you've been," he says, shimmying down and perching on the edge of Lucifer's table, and Lucifer chuckles.

"If I tell you everything, we'll be here all night," he says. "But I can give you the highlights." He pauses to sell a couple of fish to a middle-aged housewife, recommending an easy marinade that'll go well with them. "Well," he says, humming thoughtfully. "I did wrestle a shark down south."

Sam snorts. "The hell you wrestled a shark."

"It had been following me for three days," Lucifer says. "By the third day, I'd figured it was no ordinary shark. There was some kind of hell in it, and it wanted me. So I dropped anchor, took my longest knife, and waited until I saw it circling my boat again. Then I leaped overboard, taking it by surprise. It put up a goddamn fight, but I got my knife in its belly, slitting it all the way open, and I swear the damn thing stared into my eyes as it was dying. I kept its fin, I'll show it to you later if you'd like."

Sam thinks about Lucifer, pale skin against the dark water, wrestling with a thousand pounds of fury and sharp teeth. He bites his lip and shudders; the image is as terrifying as it is intoxicating.

"I picked up a few new spices in a port to the east," Lucifer adds. "Only so many ways you can eat fish before you start wanting to kill yourself, you know. You planning on joining me for dinner?"

"No other plans," Sam says, and smiles.

They end up selling near half the fish, and they pack the rest into someone's ice chest for tomorrow's market. On the way back to the docks, they stop to pick out some new paint for the boat. Sam gravitates immediately towards a bright turquoise and scowls when Lucifer laughs at him, but they buy it in the end.

Lucifer cooks him seared tuna, with fresh avocado and ginger, and it's the best thing Sam's tasted in his life. He watches Sam take the first bite, watches how his lips go and how his throat works when he swallows, before he'll eat any himself. All through dinner, he steals looks at Sam with a kind of satisfaction on his face that makes something jump in Sam's stomach.

"So your brother and your dad, they know you're here," Lucifer says, popping the top off of a beer for Sam and doing the same for himself. "They know _why_ you're here?"

Sam gives him a hard stare. "Does it matter?"

Lucifer returns the look. "I'd say so."

Sam sighs, flopping back on the Lucifer's saggy couch. "You know why. You don't need to ask."

"I'd like to hear it from you."

Sam glares. "It never would have stopped, alright? We stayed in this town barely three years, and that's the longest we ever put down roots. Dad thinks it's freeing, to be out on the open road, never settling, but it's not. It's stifling. I'm an adult, I'm old enough to make my own decisions. So I came back."

"Sounds about right to me," Lucifer says, settling on the opposite side of the couch and stretching out his legs. "Nothing wrong with thinking for yourself."

"I thought you'd understand," Sam says quietly, looking at his hands. He picks at the label on the bottle before taking a swig. "How long are you staying this time?"

Lucifer doesn't answer him for a moment. "Not long. I'll probably sell the rest of the fish tomorrow, and I'll salt and dry whatever I don't sell. Repaint the _Seadevil_ the next morning and let her dry while I pick up supplies in town. I thought I'd leave on the third day."

"Oh," Sam says. He'd--well, he'd known Lucifer wasn't staying long, knew he had other ports to get to in other, more exciting parts of the world. Still, he'd figured on having more than just a few days.

"Sam." Lucifer's sitting up now, has edged closer on the couch to Sam. "You could come with me. I could use another hand on the ship."

Sam looks up. "You'd let me do that?"

"There's freedom in the sea," Lucifer says. "I know you didn't feel that with your brother and your father, always on the move, but it's different at sea. I promise it's different. I'll show you, if it's what you want."

"I'd like that," Sam says, nodding slowly. "I'd like to see the places you go." He looks around the cabin, and yeah, it's the kind of place he could spend time in. The furniture's mismatched, beat-up and nailed down, but in a comfortable, homey sort of way. The walls are bedecked with long swathes of fabric from countries Sam's never been to, everything that can be painted in a bright color is, just like Lucifer likes it. He's always liked it on this boat, loved disappearing onto it when he was younger and Lucifer would sail in with a fresh catch.

Lucifer smiles, bright and wide, and reaches out to push a hand through Sam's hair. "You'll sleep here tonight. No sense in going back to town now. I've only got the one bed, but the couch pulls out, and I've got plenty of spare blankets."

"Thanks," Sam says, and Lucifer curls his fingers against the back of his neck as he draws his hand away.

He takes the necklace off before he goes to sleep, runs his fingers over each of the shells, finding their little whorls and grooves. It's beautiful and frivolous, everything that doesn't belong to the harshness of sea, and yet it does, and everything about that is so very Lucifer.

The blankets smell of him. Sam curls himself up in them and inhales deeply, savoring the smell, before falling asleep.

 

 

They leave two days later, just as Lucifer promised. Sam's still all thumbs when it comes to the sails, and so Lucifer lets him just sit at the front, soaking up the sun while the wind ruffles his hair. He tells Sam he's pretty enough to be the masthead, and Sam blushes furiously and looks away.

"Come here," Lucifer says abruptly, around mid-afternoon, the wind just a light, gentle breeze. He fetches a length of rope from a corner of the ship and gestures for Sam to join him where he's sitting cross legged by the side of the boat.

He winds the rope around a hook, measuring out the ends until they're equal. "Do you know any knots?"

Sam shakes his head. "Dean tried to teach me some once, but I never paid attention."

Lucifer nods. "We'll start with the bowline knot." He makes a loop with one end of the rope, passing the other through it before looping it around and back into the original loop, and pulling it taut. He undoes it, and demonstrates again, this time pausing after each step to make sure Sam's got it.

Still, Sam manages to fumble it when he tries, and it comes out sideways. Lucifer laughs and tells him it's a common mistake, and takes Sam's hands to show him.

"First you make a rabbit hole," he says, making the first loop. "Then the rabbit comes up through the hole, goes around the tree, and back into the hole." They pull it together, and it comes out just right.

Lucifer's hands are warm and rough on Sam's, well-worn and callused from the years at sea. He lingers like that for a moment, arms around Sam, thumbs stroking little circles against Sam's. His breath comes warm and salty against the shell of Sam's ear, and Sam takes a sharp breath in.

He releases Sam at that, picking up the rope again. "My brother taught me this one," he says, "with the story about the rabbit and everything." He seems to go far away, and Sam steals a quick look at him before he comes back, examining the knot. "Alright, you do it again, on your own this time."

It takes him a few more tries, but Sam gets it in the end, tying a slightly crooked bowline knot that Lucifer pronounces acceptable. "You're a quick study," he tells Sam, and it's hard not to purr with the praise.

"Teach me another," he demands, and Lucifer ruffles his hair fondly.

"The clove hitch is another good one. You use this one in lashing, one when you start and one at the end. It's a pretty simple knot; you pass this side across and then around, and then you just slip this end under this loop and pull it tight."

His hands are beautiful while they're working, all focus and determination, and there's such power in them. Sam can easily imagine them killing, pulling creatures out of the sea with ease, spearing them on a trident.

"You practice these two," Lucifer says. "I'll take the wheel for a bit, make sure we're on course, and then I'll start on dinner. You'll show me a perfect bowline and clove hitch before you get anything to eat. And if anything shows up on the horizon, call me."

It's fish again for dinner, but Lucifer's baked fresh bread while Sam was practicing his knots. Sam has no idea how he manages to pull fresh bread out of the kitchen on a fishing boat, of all things, but if it's magic bread, it tastes like bread all the same. He eats nearly half a loaf just by himself.

They watch the sunset together, the orange and reds all flaring together, slowing dipping below the horizon. Sam dips an idle foot in the water, watching the ripples spread out in widening rings.

"You like it out here," Lucifer says, not really a question.

Sam nods. "It feels...right. It's all this emptiness, and just the two of us. And that should be scary, but it's not."

"It's not just us. There's all kinds of creatures down there, fish and crabs and whales, and more creepy crawlies than you could imagine. And ghosts. All ghosts go to the deeps eventually."

Sam shivers, and Lucifer wraps an arm around his shoulders, pulling him in and letting Sam's head rest on his shoulder. "You belong to the sea," Lucifer tells him. "You always did. I saw it the moment I first laid eyes on you, and I knew it when you came back to see me."

Sam makes a faint noise of agreement and edges closer to Lucifer. He's sleepy and comfortable, and he feels, in a sudden rush, like he _belongs_. His eyes shut, and he's only distantly aware of Lucifer lifting him with inhuman strength, carrying him back inside and tucking him into bed.

"Sleep well, sweetheart," Lucifer whispers, pressing the ghost of a kiss into Sam's hair.

He dreams that he's drowning, but Lucifer strokes his hair and assures him he'll be just fine. Hundreds of ghosts swarm around them, pale, insubstantial shapes that bright colored fish swim through.

 

 

They stop a week or so later in a little seaside village, no big haul to sell, just enough to refuel and restock. They stay for a day, and Lucifer takes advantage of the proximity to fresh fruit to make sure Sam gets all the vitamins he needs, carving an apple into a rose for him and offering it with a lazy smile. He buys Sam a pretty beaded bracelet to go with his necklace, ignoring his protests.

"It suits you," Lucifer says. "Goes with the salt in your hair, makes you look like a proper fisherman prince. You ought to wear more jewelry, it sets you off so nicely. You deserve to wear pretty things."

Sam makes a face at him, but he lets Lucifer fasten the bracelet on him all the same.

 

 

Lucifer takes every opportunity he has when he's not steering the boat to leap over the side and swim, often not even dropping anchor first. Sam's not one for swimming, can't do much more than doggy paddle, but he likes watching Lucifer, his lean, graceful body cutting through the waves and his blonde hair all wet and plastered to his forehead.

Something touches his ankle, and Sam squawks like a startled cat, but it's just Lucifer, his fingers wrapped around Sam's ankle like he's a mermaid about to pull him down to the deeps.

"You should join me," he says, running wet fingers down Sam's bare calf.

"That water is _freezing_ , you freak," Sam replies, twitching out of his grasp, shrieking again when Lucifer splashes him and grabs hold of his leg like he really will pull Sam in. "I will leave you behind!"

"The _Seadevil_ knows me too well to leave me behind," Lucifer says, laughing. "She'd never go anywhere without me."

Sam concedes the point, stops his kicking and lets Lucifer run his fingers over his feet. He presses against the bones of his arch, works his thumbs over his ankle bones, wiggles each of his toes like Sam's a child he's playing "This Little Piggy" with. His gaze on Sam's face is intent and unavoidable, and it makes Sam's skin prickle with a heady combination of excitement and fear.

"What is this?" he says, voice quiet and unsure, before he can lose his nerve. "All of this. What are you to me?"

Lucifer's tongue darts out over his lips. "I'll be whatever you want me to, Sam. Your father, if that's what you'd like. Your mother, your brother. Your lover. Whatever you'd like me to be. I'm your family now. I think I always have been. Don't you?"

"Whatever I'd like," Sam repeats, leaning forward, towards Lucifer. "That's offering a lot."

Lucifer smiles, reaches for the railing and pulls himself back up onto the ship in an unnatural show of strength, trapping Sam beneath him. He's soaking wet from the ocean, shirtless, dripping all over Sam. "Ask for it," he says. "Anything you want, ask for it and I'll give it to you."

Sam finds he's afraid, afraid of what he might want, afraid of what Lucifer is willing to offer him. The sky is darkening above them, clouds moving in, and he feels the first drops of an October rain fall on his cheek.

"What is it that you want, Sam?" Lucifer asks, reaching out to stroke Sam's cheek. "What can I give you?"

"I--" Sam stutters, "I don't--" The rain's starting to fall in earnest now, drenching Sam as thoroughly as Lucifer, and the sound of it drumming on the deck matches Sam's thudding heartbeat. He takes in a quick breath as Lucifer reaches out and rests his hand over Sam's heart.

"Don't be afraid," he breathes, face dangerously close to Sam's now. "I wouldn't hurt you, sweet Sam."

He leans forward and his lips just brush against Sam's. Something like a current passes between them, and Sam scrambles out from under him, leaping to his feet. Lucifer doesn't move to stand, just leans back, looking up at Sam, mouth curling into a slow smile.

"Whenever you're ready, then," he says, and looks up at the sky. "First rain of the season. Seems like a cause for celebration, doesn't it? We'll have wine with dinner, the nice bottle I picked up when we last made port."

Sam just looks at him. Lucifer makes a shooing gesture.

"Go put on some dry clothes, you'll catch your death. I'll stay out here, make sure we don't capsize."

Sam hides in a corner with a book pulled from one of the many piles Lucifer has lining his bedroom, while Lucifer fixes dinner. He tries to keep his gaze fixed firmly on the page, but he can't help looking up every now and then. Lucifer catches him nearly every time, and he blushes and returns to the book. It's still raining, but gently, like a purring cat, no threat to the ship.

He's quiet through dinner, can't quite meet Lucifer's eye, and he drinks the glass of wine he's poured perhaps more quickly than he should. Lucifer's fixed salmon chowder out of God knows what ingredients, and it's delicious, like everything he makes, but Sam's stomach is all turned about and he only manages half a bowl. Lucifer collects his half-empty bowl without a word, refills his wine glass and nudges him out of the cabin with a hand on his back.

The rain's died down to just a barely perceptible sprinkle, and the waves are calm. Lucifer settles on the deck, legs spread, and pulls Sam down to sit in his lap.

"That one's the North Star," he says, pointing. "Polaris. It's easy enough to find; you draw a straight line between the middle star of Cassiopeia and the top corner of the Little Dipper. No matter what time of day, it always points north, with the rest of the sky rotating around it." The sky is clear and cloudless, and this far out in the ocean the stars shine bright and visible. Sam finds the W shape of Cassiopeia easily enough and it guides him to Polaris. "Drink your wine," Lucifer says in his ear, a murmur just loud enough for him to hear, and he obliges.

One of Lucifer's arms winds its way around his waist, his fingertips edging just above the hem of his shirt, almost like an accident.

"Shall I sing for you?" Lucifer asks. Sam nods faintly, just a little jerk of his head against Lucifer's neck, but it's enough. Lucifer's voice is rough, like barnacles, a salty sort of voice, and the song carries far across the water.

_Oh the times were hard and the wages low,_  
 _leave her, Johnny, leave her._  
 _And now ashore we must go,_  
 _and it's time for us to leave her._

_Oh! Leave her, Johnny, leave her,_  
 _Oh, leave her, Johnny, leave her,_  
 _for the voyage is done and the winds don't blow,_  
 _and it's time for us to leave her._

_Now the rats have gone and we the crew,_  
 _leave her, Johnny, leave her._  
 _Why now ashore we'll go, too,_  
 _and it's time for us to leave her._

He pauses and sighs, lips brushing against Sam's cheek. "But you wouldn't leave me, would you, Sam? You'll stay with me."

_Oh! Leave her, Johnny, leave her,_  
 _Oh, leave her, Johnny, leave her,_  
 _for the voyage is done and the winds don't blow,_  
 _and it's time for us to leave her._

Lucifer wraps his fingers around Sam's, lifting the wine glass to Sam's lips, and Sam drinks deeply, draining it.

"I'm your father," he says, setting the glass down and touching his fingers to Sam's forehead, "your creator, your caretaker. I'm your brother, your partner, your equal." He draws his fingers down Sam's face, to his lips, and Sam parts them, tongue sliding out to draw Lucifer's fingers in. "Your lover, if you'll have me. I'd like to bring you pleasure, Sam."

He unsnaps the button on Sam's jeans, unzipping them and just dipping the tips of his fingers into the waistband of his underwear. "Say yes. Be mine."

Sam groans and presses himself closer against Lucifer, but Lucifer shakes his head.

"You have to say yes, Sam. I can't give you anything unless you say yes."

"Yes," Sam grits out, " _yes_. Please."

Lucifer's answering smile is terrible and cruel, and fiercely loving. He shoves Sam's jeans down his hips and slides his hand into his undershorts, just teasing at first. "We're not alone," he whispers. "The stars are watching us, and the fish and everything from deep down under the waves, all the drowned souls. And you'll put on such a pretty performance for them, won't you?" He pushes his hips upward, grinding against Sam's bottom, and Sam can feel his interest. His fingers trail through the coarse hair nestling Sam's cock, and Sam tips his head back and groans.

"Don't _tease_ ," he says breathlessly, and Lucifer chuckles.

He works Sam's cock with the ease that comes of perfect understanding, like he's spent years at sea with Sam's body already. Sam moans and writhes in his arms, his hips bucking upward into Lucifer's hand, until finally Lucifer's holding him through his orgasm, stroking his hair and kissing his neck, wringing every last blissful moment from him. He feels dreamy and lost, but so safe and wanted and cared for.

Lucifer guides him to his own bedroom when he's recovered enough to stand. He removes each of Sam's layers, his thick and woolen sweater, flannel, undershirt, come-stained jeans and underwear, leaving him naked and shivering, but then he's tucked under enough quilts to compensate for the ocean chill. Sam watches Lucifer strip from under the blankets, gazes openly at the well-muscled shoulders, the faint softness of his belly, the naked cock hanging between his legs.

He gravitates immediately toward Lucifer when he climbs into bed, pressing himself against him. Lucifer isn't warm, exactly, but he's not cold, either, or rather he's both at once, he feels like the deep ocean. Sam cups his face, running his fingers over the roughness. He takes care to shave nearly every morning, but Lucifer's careless about it, only shaves when he feels like, which isn't often. It scrapes Sam's face when he kisses him, but it's a delicious, dangerous coarseness.

Sam wakes the next morning with the faintest hint of sunlight trickling through the window and the feeling of cotton trailing over his skin as Lucifer slides the sheets back. He's lying flat on his stomach, and he moves to sit up, but Lucifer stops him with a hand flattened over his back. He lets his face rest against his folded arms as Lucifer's hand slides up and down his back, testing the muscle there, fingers digging into his spine.

He spreads his hands over the curve of Sam's ass, separating his cheeks and kneading them before moving onto his thighs, down his calves, tickling the bottom of his feet and laughing when Sam jerks them away.

"Turn over," he says, and Sam obliges, rolling over onto his back and blinking sleepily up at him. He rolls his shoulders and stretches as Lucifer eyes him, as if deciding the best place to continue his exploration. Like he's a sailor on a brand new sea, preparing to survey it for maps, charting out new regions and the best routes to follow. Like he intends to catalogue it properly for many return voyages.

He kisses Sam once on the forehead, each cheek, his nose, and finally a gentle, chaste press of his lips to Sam's. All the while, he runs his hands down Sam's neck, thumbs brushing up and down his throat, the lightest of pressures. Slides them down Sam's arms, testing the veins in his wrists and lifting his hands up to tangle their fingers together. Sam rolls his hips invitingly, and Lucifer resumes his exploration, pinching and rolling his nipples between two fingers, looking delighted when Sam makes a high noise in his throat, half protest and half desire for more.

"My sweet Sam," Lucifer says, satisfaction evident in his voice. His fingers skate down Sam's sides to his hips, to his cock, perking up with interest in the proceedings. He spreads Sam's legs, trailing just his fingertips along his inner thighs, thumbs over the head of his cock, cradles his balls. It's touching without the intent to seduce, merely to learn, to know, and it's an unexpectedly pleasant way to be woken up, Lucifer inching him slowly into the waking world with different, pleasing sensations. He doesn't even particularly mind when Lucifer pulls away to cradle his face and set his lips against Sam's, sharing breath for a moment. "My fisherman prince. And I'll be your king."

Lucifer stands, lifting his arms above his head and stretching wide before picking his clothes up from where he'd left them on the floor the night before. "Come out whenever you're ready."

Sam takes the opportunity to stay in bed a while longer, feeling wonderfully lazy. He presses his face into the pillows, inhaling deep; they smell of both him and Lucifer, like exotic spices and sea air and fish scales and freshly clean hair. He doesn't bother dressing before he leaves the bedroom, just finds his necklace and bracelet and fastens them both on. When Lucifer sees him, he gives him a look so full of desire and possessiveness that it makes Sam's breath catch in his throat.

"Aren't you just a perfect little thing," Lucifer says, voice low and hungry. He gestures for Sam to sit in the squashy armchair in the corner before coming over himself with a bowl of warm water, the straight razor and the shaving cream.

He takes over Sam's grooming from then on, setting him down in the armchair before shaving him baby-smooth with the same fastidious care he uses gutting a fish. It's hard not to be a little afraid, having to sit perfectly still while Lucifer, this perfectly poised killer of fish carefully scrapes away his stubble until his face is as smooth as a girl.

"Perfect," Lucifer pronounces him when he's done, running his hands over Sam's face to make sure he hasn't missed anything, kissing him with an unexpected strength and nipping his lower lip.

Sam spends most of the rest of the day naked, lying on the couch with a book of maps while Lucifer sits at the kitchen table with a jar of smoothly polished cowrie shells and a few more jars of assorted beads, weaving them together into a new necklace for Sam. Before the week is out, he'll have made Sam two new bracelets as well, one out of shells, and one out of all the pink beads in the jars, interspersed with real pearls; as well as producing a ring set with a bit of lapis lazuli and a bangle made of beaten silver from one of his pockets.

"Where are we?" Sam asks, nodding at the maps he's flipping through. "You never seem to navigate with anything besides the stars. Do you know where we are, or are we just drifting aimlessly on the ocean?"

Lucifer peers at the maps, leafing through the pages until he finds one that satisfies him. "We should be around here."

Sam squints at him. "How do you know that?"

"The boat knows where to go," Lucifer says carelessly. "And I can feel the sea around us. I know where we are."

Sam gives him a dubious look, but Lucifer doesn't pay him any mind, turning back to the necklace he's making. Something on his hand gleams in the cold sunlight, and Sam sits up.

"What's that on your hand?"

"Hmmm?"

Sam stands, walking over to their little kitchen table. Lucifer tries to shoo him away, but Sam catches his hand, staring at the silvery glimmer on his knuckles.

"It's like little scales," he says, fascinated.

"It's nothing," Lucifer says dismissively. "Just the ocean air. Pay it no mind."

"What _is_ it?" Sam asks, but Lucifer ignores him, standing and turning him around to fasten the new necklace on him.

"There you go," he says, and kisses the hollow of Sam's throat. "Such a pretty thing," and Sam can't tell whether Lucifer's talking about him or the necklace.

 

 

He doesn't press the issue again the following week, when the Fish Incident happens. It starts innocuously enough, an odd splashing by the side of the boat, and Sam looks over the side to see dozens of fish, schools of tiny ones and larger, individual fish, swarming up against the side of the boat. One of them jumps up at him and he jerks his head away as it falls back down, but another one leaps even higher, and another, until all at once there's fish leaping up onto the deck and lying there flopping helplessly.

Lucifer abandons the rigging at once, scooping them up frantically and throwing them back over, but they keep coming, more and more, an onslaught of fish. A particularly large and brightly colored one lands straight at Lucifer's feet, and he lifts it up, whispering words Sam can't make out to it. He kisses it quick and tosses it back over, and the ocean seems to shudder. The fish stop coming then, the ones that are left flop weakly towards the sides and Sam helps Lucifer fling as many as they can back over the edge.

The scales have spread halfway up to the first knuckle on his right index finger as well as inching towards the other one, and there's new ones glimmering above his brows and on his cheekbones. Sam touches them with care; they're smooth like a fish's.

_What's happening_ , he wants to ask, _what is this, I don't understand_. But Lucifer doesn't say anything at all, so he doesn't ask.

Lucifer tastes permanently of salt and fish when Sam kisses him now, no matter whether he's just brushed his teeth or no, and his skin is a strange cold to the touch. Something is happening, it's clear.

Sam finds him, early, early one morning, sitting cross-legged on the deck and dressed in far too few layers for the October chill.

"Lucifer," he says, just his name, and Lucifer turns to look at him.

"I'm not what you think I am," he says.

"I think I'd guessed that," Sam says, fiddling with his bracelets. "You could stand to tell me, though."

"You won't like it," Lucifer warns. "I'm a terrible thing, Sam, you won't like it one bit. You shouldn't be asking."

"I'm doing it anyway."

"I'm not _human_ , Sam." Lucifer's eyes burn, and his fingers curl into a fist against his thigh. "You'll hate me."

"I'd already figured," Sam says. "I won't hate you. I'd never hate you."

"I'm a god," Lucifer says, with a great heaving sigh. "A god or a demon, depending on who you ask, and a cruel one. By rights I should have drowned you long ago, should have taken you as a sacrifice down to the deeps with me." He gives Sam a hot glare, and the boat rocks under a sudden wave. "I've tried to keep you, but you're human, so human. And I've tried to pretend for you, but my nature's coming up from the sea to take me back."

Sam looks at his hands, his fingernails with the chipped blue polish from when Lucifer had painted them a few days ago. "I don't get to have you, do I."

"Have _me_?" Lucifer says, and there's thunder in his voice. "You're the one who's mine, who should be mine, who's been mine since your birth. I've wanted you for so long, and now that I have you I can't stand to lose you."

"Then don't," Sam says. "Don't leave me."

"It's not as simple as that," Lucifer says. "The deeps are calling me."

"Take me with you, then."

"I can't."

"You could find a way. I know you."

Lucifer looks away, out across the ocean, before turning back. "You could marry me."

Sam stares. "Marry you?"

"Me, and the sea. We'd never let you go, Sam. We're very jealous. But if you'd be mine forever, I could stay with you, make a palace of the _Seadevil_. I'd show you all the ocean, everywhere it touches."

Sam doesn't even have to think. "Yes."

Lucifer gives him a curious look. "Just like that?"

Sam nods, and leans forward to kiss him shyly. " _Yes_."

 

 

When Sam wakes, Lucifer's gone and there's something different about the rocking of the boat. He looks out the window, and sure enough, they're moored to a dock jutting out from an unfamiliar beach, and he can see Lucifer a ways down the shore, wading with a bucket in his hand.

"Looking for oysters," he replies when Sam asks. "For dinner. I thought it should be something nice, not just leftovers."

"And the beach?" Sam asks, and Lucifer shrugs.

"It's the right place."

He sends Sam off to collect firewood and build a fire. When he's done, Lucifer's still wading through the ocean, though he's got to have more than enough oysters by now, and the tide's high enough that he'll have a hard time finding any more. Sam doesn't ask, just fetches a book from off the ship and sits on the beach to read it.

He watches the sun drift through the sky, sinking lower through the afternoon, with a mounting apprehension. He's not at all certain he's making the right choice, it's only that he knows without absolute certainty that after all this he wouldn't be able to bear being parted from Lucifer.

"How do we do this?" Sam asks when Lucifer rounds the beach towards him, feeling slightly nervous. "Are you going to pull a licensed officiator out of the air?"

Lucifer gives him a fond look. "It's not a marriage the way you conceive of them. We don't need any certificate from City Hall. We just need the ocean to bear witness. You just need to love me, is all." And that's enough, Sam finds. He doesn't need anything more.

On the _Seadevil_ , Sam watches Lucifer wash his face with some water he's boiled at the kitchen sink, and he follows suit. When he turns around, Lucifer clears his throat, looking uncharacteristically anxious.

"I don't have anything--formal to wear," he says. "But I did find something--something nice in a drawer, that I picked up somewhere. I thought you might wear it for me." He offers a small smile, and Sam returns it uncertainly.

"Show me," Sam says, and Lucifer holds out a dress, pale, creamy seafoam green fabric draped with full, loose skirts that loop up in the back, accented with pearls and delicate lace. He reaches out to touch it without thinking; the fabric is impossibly light and silky.

"Do you like it?" Lucifer asks. "You look so lovely in pretty things, I thought it would be nice on you."

"Did you," Sam murmurs, running his hands through the material. He imagines, without quite intending to, what he might look like in it, Lucifer's arms around him, and his face flares with warmth.

Lucifer nods. "Will you wear it for me?" he asks, reaching up to stroke his knuckles down Sam's face, and Sam gives a quick, jerky nod.

"Dress me," he commands, feeling oddly imperious all of a sudden. Lucifer looks amused, but he lays the dress carefully on a chair and begins to unbutton Sam's shirt. It's like a dance, the way Lucifer dresses him, circling him, drawing each piece of clothing off him with care, breath warm on his neck where he steps in close. Sam steps into the dress and holds himself still, feeling nearly lightheaded as Lucifer pulls it up, flattening his hands against Sam's sides and smoothing out the wrinkles. The dress buttons in the back, and he shivers each time Lucifer's fingertips brush his skin as they do it up.

Lucifer stands back and gives Sam a once-over, licking his lips in a way that's obvious and overdramatic, and yet still manages to make Sam's insides heat up and squirm.

"How do I look?" he asks, turning in a circle.

"Radiant," Lucifer says, and pulls him in for a kiss.

Lucifer fries the oysters over the fire Sam's built, rolling them in flour and rosemary-garlic butter he's made himself. He replaces them in their shells, garnished with whole, roasted garlic cloves, swimming in the rosemary-garlic oil, and offers them up to Sam, who eats greedily.

"Slow down," Lucifer says, laughing, and he hand-feeds Sam the next oyster. Sam licks the butter from his fingers, watching with satisfaction as Lucifer's eyes go dark like a storm. "You don't know half the things you do to me," he says, and Sam flutters his lashes at him, feeling rather pleased with himself.

They take turns feeding each other the oysters, until finally Sam ends up sprawled across Lucifer's lap, skirts spread out around them on the sand, the fire dying down beside them.

"My sweet Sam," Lucifer says, pushing his hands through Sam's skirts, finding his hips and tugging them up against him, "my sweet fisherman prince."

Sam makes a little _murr_ of contentment, pressing his face against Lucifer's neck. He kisses his neck, and then bites, smiling when Lucifer makes a noise of surprise.

"Vicious little thing, aren't you," he says, sounding enormously appreciative. He grinds his hips upwards against Sam's, cups his rear, and Sam lets out an impatient sound, reaching for the buttons on his shirt and pulling them open hurriedly. He pulls Lucifer's collar out of the way and bites again, his shoulder this time, and Lucifer's fingers dig into his ass. "So _wild_. Just like the sharp little creatures of the sea."

"I'm not a _creature_ ," Sam says.

"No," Lucifer says. "No. You're Sam, my Sam."

"Your Sam," Sam agrees. "Now kiss me."

Lucifer obeys him, licking his mouth open, teeth and tongue and lips in just the right places. When they break apart, Sam breathless, closing his eyes and nuzzling against Lucifer's neck, Sam's ended up fully on top of him, Lucifer on his back in the sand with Sam bent over him.

The tide is creeping up behind them, tugging at Sam's skirts and tickling his toes. Lucifer's already soaked up to his ankles, but he just gazes up at Sam, wonder and adoration in his eyes.

Something about it catches Sam's breath in his throat, and he swallows thickly. He's trembling, he realizes dimly, though he's not sure why.

"Marry me," he says. "Marry me, I want--I want you, I want you like this forever, I don't think I could let you go."

Lucifer nods, and he flips them over, so that it's Sam beneath him. He finishes pulling off the shirt that Sam's already started on, and tugs the t-shirt over his head, as Sam undoes his jeans with shaking fingers. He lets out a little sigh once he's fully naked, and stands, offering Sam his hand.

The water's come up high enough to pool around both their ankles, a few inches deep, thoroughly soaking the hem of Sam's dress.

"Sam," Lucifer says. "Will you be mine, will you promise you won't ever leave me?"

"I promise," Sam says, his voice unexpectedly small. Lucifer takes in a long breath and lets it out slowly, his eyes shut, and then he pulls a heavy gold ring out of seemingly nowhere, and slides it onto Sam's finger. He presses an identical ring into Sam's palm, and Sam, feeling nearly like he's about to faint, pushes the ring slowly onto Lucifer's finger.

The ocean seems to still, holding its breath, and then it releases it all at once, the tide rushing up and around them, extinguishing the fire and coming up past Sam's waist. He doesn't struggle when Lucifer pushes him beneath the surface and holds him down, just closes his eyes as Lucifer kisses him tenderly. When he opens them again, his breath comes out in little bubbles, just like breathing air.

The water feels less like water and more like hands on him, stroking up and down his legs, his back, running through his hair, parting his legs and pushing his dress up around him, finding where he's naked underneath it. He gasps, though it comes out as a large, wavering bubble, and tilts his head back as the watery hands find his cock, his ass, pressing unexpectedly _into_ him.

Sam's head breaks above the water's surface, and moments later, so does Lucifer's. His legs feel very weak, and he's glad they're still in the shallows. "Is this--is that you?"

"Of course," Lucifer says smoothly, coming around Sam's side to support him, and now his own fingers join the watery ones inside him.

"Fuck," Sam mutters, arching his back and moaning, pressing himself against Lucifer. " _God_ , are you--?"

"We're going to fuck you, Sam," Lucifer tells him. "Consummate the union properly," and Sam nods frantically as the cold fingers work impossibly deep into him.

It seems like an eternity that Lucifer spends, fucking him open on his fingers. Sam wraps his arms around his neck, no longer trusting his legs to hold him up by themselves; he's achingly hard, and he nearly cries with it by the time it's Lucifer's cock pushing into him. Lucifer's prepared him well, and it's a stretch and a slide without hurt.

Lucifer pulls them both down under the water again, fucking Sam slowly and languidly, brushing away the hair that floats in clouds around his face. Everywhere the water touches Sam sends sparks straight to his brain, every inch of skin like a raw nerve, cocooning him, wrapping him in sensation. Lucifer is unraveling him, pulling apart from the inside and the outside at once. Dimly, he's aware of Lucifer's pace losing its measured rhythm, growing stuttery, of Lucifer's hold on him tightening until they're both clutching onto each other as though for dear life.

When he comes, it's with the feeling that he's being split open, torn into little Sam pieces with the force of his orgasm. He's drowning, and he blacks out.

Lucifer is stroking his hair when he wakes. The tide's mostly receded, and he's wet and sandy; every part of him aches in a pleasant sort of way and he's much too sensitive.

"I love you," Lucifer says, looking terribly fond, and Sam nods his agreement.

**Author's Note:**

> please do not follow sam and lucifer's example, it will lead to you getting sand in uncomfortable places
> 
> the shanty lucifer sings is "leave her, johnny"; there are a lot of variations but [here](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4fVQwzv5Qfc) is a nice one should you choose to listen to it. don't talk to me about sea shanties i love them too much.


End file.
